Never Fell
by AndromedaStarr
Summary: At one in the morning, a relationship must end. A somewhat unusual pairing. Oneshot. Please review.


Disclaimer: I do not own the L&O franchise, nor do I own the characters (wish I owned Goren, though). I make no money from this. Don't sue.

Inspired in part by the song _I Should Go_ by Levi Kreis.

* * *

It can be hard to pinpoint the moment you fall in love with someone. At one o'clock in the morning, Robert Goren is trying to do precisely that.

The stars are out in the black velvet sky, tiny twinkling specks, and the breeze that floats leisurely through his open window brings with it a chill that might be pleasant if his bed were not so empty. He casts a longing glance back at his pure white sheets, and turns back to the view through the window. He needs warmth not just to take away the goosebumps on his body but the goosebumps on his heart.

The wind whistles softly, and now it carries the scent of peaches and vanilla. He closes his eyes, wishing he could absorb that scent into his every pore. Because that is her smell, her own delicious aroma. His sheets used to smell like that, not so long ago...but he shakes that thought off now, because it isn't healthy to be thinking like that. Because she doesn't love him.

There is a quiet knock at his door that jolts Goren from his disconcerting reverie. Slowly, awkwardly, he gets to his feet. _Please_, he thinks. _Let it be anyone but her_.

He opens the door to the vision of dark beauty that he has been trying to chase from his mind for weeks. Rain-damp black hair frames her face in soft curls, and inky black eyes glint up at him from beneath rich dark brows. Her face is unnaturally serene and composed, as it always is.

"Did I wake you?" she asks softly. Her hands are so tiny, her build diminutive, but he knows she has more than enough passion ensconced within that small frame to make up for her size.

"No. I couldn't sleep." He finds he has no breath. When did she become so beautiful? He holds the door open wordlessly, and she slips past him into the apartment. Her hand is cool where it brushes his.

"I couldn't sleep either," she says when he joins her in the living room to find her staring out the window. Her coat is on his couch. "I wanted to see you."

Goren tears his eyes from her. Her leggings and her sweater are fitted, and he decides to try to pretend he doesn't see how her body curves beneath her clothes. He knows it will inevitably be a lost cause, but he will aim for the noble path anyway. He forces himself to meet her gaze. "Do you want something to drink?" he asks, his voice eerily calm despite how fast his heart is beating.

"Wine," she says, turning back to the window. "Red wine."

In the kitchen, Goren's usually skillful hands fumble with glasses as he pours lightly chilled Bordeaux for both of them. He brings the bottle out and sets it on the coffee table, and is careful not to knock anything over as he takes her glass to her. She makes him feel self-conscious and awkward – perhaps it is the light sweetness of her scent, or the dark incense smell of her hair.

She does not even look at him as she accepts the glass. "Thank you," she says quietly, and takes a sip, resting it on the windowsill.

Goren is staring down at her, unwilling and unable to look away. He wants more than anything in the world to stand behind her and slide his arms around her small waist, to lean down and kiss the smooth skin where her neck becomes her shoulder.

"What?" she asks, and now she is looking up at him. Her eyes have an otherworldly glow in the faint moonlight; he could drown willingly in those infinite pools of wisdom and sorrow.

"You're beautiful." Almost against his will, one hand rises to her face. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brushes her satiny cheek with his knuckles.

Incredibly, she laughs. It is pure and unaffected, accompanied with a slight toss of the head that makes her hair glitter in the dim yellow light. "You know it's wrong," she says, her tone playful but serious. She's a walking contradiction, a complete paradox, and even if she'd been a street junkie when they'd met, he'd have fallen for her still anyhow.

"Yes," he agrees simply, and drains his wineglass. It is wrong. Neither of them can deny it. "But you know it feels right."

She shifts her weight restlessly, folds her arms across her chest. For a while she doesn't answer him. Then, so softly he almost doesn't hear her, she says, "We have to end this." Goren stops breathing, but he doesn't say anything. "Bobby."

He shakes his head now, slowly. "No."

In a graceful movement, she finishes her wine. The moonlight sparkles in her eyes. She exhales. "I should go."

"I wish you wouldn't," he says. His chest is tight.

"I'm sorry," she tells him softly, and reaching up, touches his cheek. The hand drifts down his neck to come to a halt on his chest. "Your heartbeat is fast."

"Don't psychoanalyze me." Goren doesn't like the note of resentment in his voice but she is the one who put it there. He takes a step back, breaking the contact. "If you're going to go, just go."

She complies, sliding back into her coat and crossing his apartment soundlessly. At the door, she turns back to him. He hasn't moved. He is still standing by the window where she left him. His shoulders are broad in the turtleneck sweater, his legs long in the baggy pants he wears to sleep. She remembers tracing the lines of his huge chest, remembers her hands on the smoothness of his back. For a moment she too wishes it didn't have to end.

But she doesn't love him.

"Just out of curiosity, Bobby, when did you fall in love with me?"

He turns his head to her, and in his eyes she sees his breaking heart. "I never fell," he says. "I just tripped. But I'll get up again. Don't bother."

And even as he says it, even as he lies to her, she believes him. It assuages her guilt to think he never really cared. And even now he would sacrifice that for her.

Even now Goren would do anything for Carolyn Barek.


End file.
